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"That good for nothing bitch," Scarlett curses to herself. "I can't believe the audacity of her. It's so clear to everyone that she's just thirsty for attention."
She looks to my clutch, as it's vibrating like crazy.
"Someone's calling" She tells me, signalling over to my purse.
"No, it's these bloody twitter notifications. My phone literally hasn't stopped vibrating," I inform her.
"Here," She demands, holding out her hand for me to pass my phone to her. She clicks a few buttons and eventually it stops, and there's a newfound silence hanging in the room.
"Look." She begins, taking a deep breath. "I'm really sorry Ava. I shouldn't have gotten angry with you over all of this Harry stuff. I understand why you couldn't say anything" She apologises, and my heart softens at the genuineness of her words.
"No. I'm sorry Scar. That shouldn't have mattered. I should have told you...I didn't try as hard as I should have."
"Okay, okay, we're both sorry," she hastily adds. "Can we go back to normal please?"
We hug, and all the former awkwardness is now out of the way, and we can finally go back to being friends.
"So tell me everything bitch," she asks, smiling.
So I tell her. How Harry and I met, the steamy moment in the pool, the airport, and then also the whole Kendall debacle.
"Oh, you could definitely tell that it was all fake," she says, "everyone talked about it being for publicity. I'm certain that's what it was."
I don't know if I like that idea any better than them dating. He says they were friends and that's okay, but I can't decide which is worse from the other two alternatives. Either he dated a super hot model, or he's someone who'd be involved in a fake relationship in order to gain publicity. Obviously everyone has a past, but he specifically told me that they haven't dated. I don't know what to think.
"And what's this about Max Beaumont? I leave you alone for like a day, and you're at a fabulous event with British royalty? So unfair." she groans.
British royalty? Max? She takes my stunned look and interprets the situation correctly,
"So you don't know who he is?"
I shake my head.
"You don't know who he is?! I can't believe you Ava. He's a Duke, and he's even in line for the throne. Granted he's like 20th in line, but still!"
Woah. Thinking back, I vaguely recall someone at Crown Casino referring to him as 'Duke', and I just thought they got his name wrong.
"Ava! Snap out of it! You should be bouncing off the ceiling with happiness right now."
I give her a look, "Why would I be happy about this?" I point to the computer screen with the newly written article about myself.
"Relax Ave. All I mean is that in your free time you're making out with Harry Styles, and hanging out with royalty. It doesn't get any better than this."
I know she means well, but that remark only frustrates me further. When I'm with Harry, I find myself craving normality. I love it when it is just him and I, and I savour the moments when we can be normal people together.
"I know it sounds glamorous to you Scarlett, but all I want is nothing more than for Harry to be a regular guy. You don't understand how scary it can be to be followed home by strange men taking pictures, and having nasty things being written about you in the media. I don't care about any of the extra bullshït."
She pulls me in for another hug and I feel slightly bad about snapping with her. Having my best friend believe that I'm relishing in all of this would just make matters worse in my mind somehow.
"I'm sorry," she says, "You know I didn't mean it in that way..."
"I know," I nod. "I'm just so stressed at the moment. I don't feel as though I can completely enjoy it all."
"What are you holding on to love?"
"It's nothing..." I say, but Scarlett is persistent.
"Ava. Talk to me."
"It's just that I'm constantly worried about what he'll think."
"What who thinks?" She asks, scrunching up her face in thought.
"Harry." I answer. "When he finds out I'm a... that I'm a-"
"Virgin?" she asks, filling in the blanks, and I nod.
"I mean, this is probably the weirdest thing I've ever said, but you probably know more about him than I do Scar. Which means you know of his reputation. You know he's labelled as this... as this kind of womaniser. He doesn't pressure me at all into doing things - in fact, I think I pressure him more than he does me. But I can't imagine how he's going to act when he finds out that I'm lacking experience in... that area."
"Aw sweetie," she coddles. "You have nothing to worry about. If he's as perfect as you say - and from what I know about him from my years of devotion, he's going to understand. I bet he won't even care. And in the odd chance that he reacts negatively... then that's when you need to walk away, head held high."
"Thanks Scar."
She's probably right. I can't imagine him reacting negatively in some outrageous fashion, but it still worries me about what he's going to think about me.
"Yeah, and if he's a díck about the whole virgin thing, that's when you send him my way," she jokingly adds, and I scoff, shaking my head.
"What was Max like anyways?" She asks, releasing me from the hug. "Maybe you can hook a sister up?" She winks exaggeratively.
I ponder the question thoughtfully.
"Hmm. He was quite an... interesting person. Mysterious maybe? He was absolutely infuriating though. One minute he'd be so arrogant and purposefully irritating, and the next he would be really kind towards me."
"Maybe he likes you," she suggests, and I can only laugh. "There is no way he likes me."
"Think about it Ava. Why else would he follow you around like a mopey little puppy all night, trying to keep you there with him? He definitely wants you at least," she decides, and winks.
I roll my eyes at her. The last thing I need is another complication. And why would I ever go for someone like Max, when I'm finding myself completely captivated by Harry? Harry is more than I could ever ask for; or deserve, and I'm still not properly convinced that he's genuinely interested in me. I'm half expecting Ashton Kutcher to pop out from the bushes and feature me to be on the next episode of Punk'd.
My phone begins vibrating on the table again and this time, it's a call. The number's showing, but it hasn't yet been added to my phone contact list.
"Hello?"
"Hello there," and I'm greeted by an English sounding accent. I almost think it's Harry for a second, though the accent varies quite significantly. Scarlett looks at me and mouths, 'Who is it?' and I shrug.
"Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but who is this?"
I can essentially sense the person on the other line smiling,
"It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours and you've already forgotten me. Or was it just the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed?" he asks.
Ugh. Max.
"I was calling because I have something of yours," he goes on.
"And what would that be, Max?" I question, with annoyance laced in my tone.
I hear Scarlett sigh in the background as it's now confirmed who's on the other line.
"You left your driver's license with me last night," he informs me.
So that's where it went!
"You mean you took my driver's license from me?" I accuse.
"Details, Details," he excuses, as though it doesn't matter.
"How did you even get my number?" I ask.
He ignores my question.
"So when did you want me to drop it off to you? I'm assuming you're still at the same address that's written on your license here," he states, with an air of smugness.
That bástard.
"I'll be home in an hour," I begrudgingly answer.
"Oh, and Ava?" he says, "I told you we'd be seeing each other again soon."
And he hangs up before I have a chance to reply. What an äss!
I explain to Scarlett what was said, and her jaw almost drops to the floor.
"Oh honey! He so has it in for you," she exclaims. "It's so obvious that he planned to take your ID with him so he'd have an excuse to see you again! Touché' might I add."
"I highly doubt that. I think he has better things to do with his time than to chase after me. Like bribing people and thinking of ways to be more arrogant and annoying." I reply, smirking at my own joke.
"So what are you going to say to Poppy?" she enquires.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" she asks, sounding openly disappointed. "Not even an elusive indirect on Twitter that's obviously directed at her?"
I laugh. "Poppy doesn't' deserve my time. She'll probably turn it around again and write another article about it. Let's not give her any more energy or attention. It's so obvious that's what she wants."
It takes a little while to convince Scarlett that by doing nothing, we win, and eventually I get back in the car to return home. I'm slightly nervous at the prospect of seeing Max again, and breathe a sigh of relief to see there are no unfamiliar cars parked near my house. I need some time to prepare myself to be faced with him again. He's just that kind of person - and not in a good way. This time I don't have liquid courage to face him, and it doesn't help having only recently learned of his aristocratic blood.
Just take the license politely and it will all be over with.
Some time passes, and the doorbell dings, and I quickly yell out that I'll answer it. Sure enough, I have a smug looking Max at my doorstep. It feels rather strange to see him out of his suit, and he's dressed in some tan shorts with a white button down shirt. He pulls this look off quite well, and I'm a little taken aback. He's holding my driver's license in his hand and I go to take it, but he swiftly yanks it out of my reach.
"Don't I get a thank you, first? You haven't even invited me inside," he smiles tauntingly, looking beyond me and inside my house. I try to block his view and close the door slightly.
I roll my eyes. "You're not coming inside. Now can I have my ID back or not?"
It's getting to the point where I'm quite willing to call it a loss, and just order a new one. This is so not worth the trouble of playing into Max's mind games, or begging for it back.
"Ava?" I hear my mother call out in the background. "Is that somebody at the door?" she asks, and I can hear her steps getting closer.
"It's okay, I've got it," I repeat, and yet she stops in her tracks when she sees Max at the door.
"Oh hello," she says cheerfully, "You a friend of Ava's?" she enquires.
"Yeah, you could say that," he says, while grinning at me. "Have you invited..." and she draws out her sentence so Max can introduce himself.
He reaches out to shake my mothers hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Max. Max Beaumont," he tells her.
I see the blood drain from her face as she turns almost as white as a sheet.
What is going on?
"I'm sorry," He replies politely. "Do we know one another?"
And almost in slow motion, my mother's eyes close and her muscles give way as she faints, and is luckily caught by Max who prevents her from hitting the floor.
"How do you know my mother, Max? What the fúck is going on?"
Question of the chapter: If you were Ava, would you have tweeted anything about Poppy, and if so, what would you have wrote? Does anyone also have any ideas about why Ava's mother may have fainted at the sight of Max? Besides of course the fact that he's played by Alex Pettyfer ;)
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